


The Fire In Which We Burn

by Mockingjay468



Series: Silver Twins, Red Lovers [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amrod dies at Losgar canon, Because Twins BURN In This Universe, Beta'd, But Only if you squint really hard - Freeform, Caranthir Having Flashbacks To Losgar, Could Be Canon, Drama, Fire, Gen, House Fires, In Which We Twist Canon Into a Pretzel, Obnoxious Old People, eldritch peredhil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:40:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28344777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mockingjay468/pseuds/Mockingjay468
Summary: “How was your day?”“Hot.” Eluréd said as his brother said; “Dull.”“Hot and dull, a wonderful combination.” Ami smiled. “But beyond those two delightful descriptors?”Elurín enjoys working in the weaving hut - but only when he's not alone with obnoxious old people who think they know better than his father.
Relationships: Caranthir | Morifinwë & Caranthir's Wife & Eluréd & Elurín, Caranthir | Morifinwë & Elurín, Caranthir | Morifinwë/Caranthir's Wife, Eluréd & Elurín (Tolkien), Elurín & Original Female Character(s)
Series: Silver Twins, Red Lovers [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078715
Kudos: 7





	The Fire In Which We Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!  
> Another story! I (although my lovely beta disagrees with me) am not so happy with this story but I can't pinpoint why - any advice would be lovely if you can see what I cannot.  
> [oliviacat3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliviacat3/pseuds/oliviacat3), thank you once more for being amazing and spending time to read through my story, you're an utter lifesaver!  
> Now on with the story - I hope you enjoy!

It was startlingly hot as the year neared Midsummer and Elurín gladly took advantage of the shade of the weaving hut as the raging sun beat down on the rest of the village.

In the five years since he’d been adopted, he’d gained quite the proficiency at sewing. Fixing seams was easy now and he could do all sorts of complicated stitches now, even practising embroidery on the edges of his and Eluréd’s shirts under his father’s watchful gaze.

Atya was not in the hut today – in fact, not many people were, apart from Felawine, her baby grandson Felach and, of course, himself. The bad weather had meant that there had been an alarming number of fires in the surrounding grasslands and anyone who could spare a hand was on duty to keep fires from reaching the village.

Elurín would be too, except his skin was far too pale and blistered horribly if he stayed out in the sun for any prolonged amount of time, so he had been delegated to fixing duty with Felawine, who was too old to help and was caring for her grandson.

Elurín sighed as he picked up yet another shirt which had been burnt by sparks and set about cutting a patch to the right size and sewing it on as carefully as possible.

“My, that was quite a deep sigh for one so young.” Felawine gave him a crooked smile. “A copper for your thoughts?”

“There’s…” Elurín paused as he tried to figure out the best way to put it. “A lot of mending.”

Felawine cackled. “Aye laddie. That there is. But if an old crone like me can do it, so can you.” Felach squalled from his basket by her feet. “I’m tired – why don’t you walk Felach around for a bit and change him for me? Hopefully then his mother will return and feed him.”

Elurín – glad for the moment to do something other than the hand-cramping work of stitching seams and patches – nodded gladly and picked the small boy up.

He lay him on one of the nearby tables and under Felawine’s instruction, unwrapped him and cleaned him up, before picking him up gently in his arms. He bounced him slightly as he had seen mothers around the village do with their children and walked a few times around the hut until he had settled down and began to snore.

Very, _very_ carefully, so as not to disturb the baby’s rest, he laid him back into his basket.

He smiled congratulatorily at himself.

“I pity your future wife,” Felawine said, very seriously.

“Oh. Why?” Elurín asked, sitting back down and picking up his mending again.

“If you think _that_ deserves praise.”

Elurín frowned. That was a bit unfair, he thought. He was only young – around thirteen, if Amosgarn’s guess was correct.

Felawine cackled. “Don’t take me seriously laddie. I’m sure you’ll be a fine husband – why, you did that for me without complaint.”

Elurín wrinkled his nose and they didn’t talk again for the rest of the day.

* * *

“How was your day?”

“Hot,” Eluréd said as his brother said; “Dull.”

“Hot and dull, a wonderful combination.” Amosgarn smiled. “But beyond those two delightful descriptors?”

 _You first_. Elurín sent across the bond he had with his brother and Eluréd launched into a description of everything he had done at the forge that day with Haldad.

“I’m fairly certain I could make a scythe blindfolded at this point,” Eluréd finished, tearing off a piece of bread. “And I haven’t yet been allowed to touch anything Haldad defines as ‘dangerous’.”

“And he’s right to do so,” Caranthir said. “My father didn’t let us into the forge until our 15th begetting days. But what about you Elurín?”

Elurín shrugged, picking at a sunburn scab. “Sewed one seam, sewed a thousand. Made enough patches to make my eyes bleed. Helped Felawine with Felach and got laughed at.”

Ami gave him a wry smile. “I’m afraid old people are like that. And don’t touch your burn.”

“Old Men are like that,” Elurín corrected, squeezing his hand into a fist to stop himself from caving into the temptation. “You don’t make fun of me for being proud of myself.”

“It’s alright ‘Rin. The wind’s changing and the temperature should hopefully drop after Midsummer. The weaving hut should be full again in a few weeks.”

+++++

Before the weaving hut was to be filled once more with nice people, Elurín had to suffer through Felawine for a while longer.

Thankfully, she slept more often than not and while that meant Elurín had more work to do, it meant he could do it without her constant judging words and faces. It also meant he got to spend more time with Felach, who he’d grown rather attached to.

“Hello there,” Elurín said softly, lifting the baby out of his basket around lunchtime. Unlike normal, he did not make a fuss of being removed from his nice, comfortable bed. “You don’t look very well, do you?”

Felach whimpered when Elurín set a hand against his hot forehead. Feelings of pain and discomfort and misery drifted against his shields as he did so and he frowned.

“You aren’t very well at all. Now what do I do?”

Elurín held the baby very gently as he contemplated his options. He didn’t have the biggest experience with being ill.

That is, except when Eluréd had been attacked by wolves. He had had a fever then – a very high one, as everyone had been very worried – and he had been given a cold bath.

“Right, I know what to do.”

He set the baby back in his basket, donned his thin shirt to protect himself from the sun and strode out of the hut towards the well in the middle of the village.

* * *

At the well, he came across his first problem – he had no bucket.

It took him a moment but eventually he decided to go ask his brother.

 _Eluréd?_ Elurín asked through their bond. _Where are you?_

Eluréd popped up from behind the counter, soot painting his face.

Elurín rose an eyebrow. “What have you been _doing_?” He asked incredulously, leaning over the counter.

“Trade secret.” Eluréd winked. “What may I do for you, brother dearest?”

“I need a bucket.”

“I wasn’t aware buckets were regularly used in sewing.”

Elurín grinned. “Trade secret.”

Eluréd narrowed his eyes. “Well played ‘Rin.” He turned away and came back a moment later with a bucket. “Bring it back please. This place is a bit of a fire hazard and we _need_ the buckets. And Haldad wants me to bring the workers the new scythes in a minute, so I can’t shadow you.”

“I will protect it with my life,” Elurín declared solemnly before bidding Eluréd good day and striding back off to the well.

This was when the second problem became apparent.

“Ah fuck.” Elurín felt quite good using a word he wasn’t supposed to as he leant against the handle, panting hard. “Why. Is. This. So. Difficult?” He pushed again at the handle of the well and was thoroughly relieved as he saw the bucket appearing.

He leaned over the stone rim of the well and snagged the bucket, nearly overbalancing when it was heavier than he expected. There was the distant sound of splashing as some of the water spilled over the edge of the bucket, back down the well.

Eyes wide, Elurín dropped the bucket heavily on the floor and slumped onto the ground.

He blinked, shook his head as the fading adrenaline left him and picked the bucket back up, lugging it towards the weaving hut.

* * *

Halfway through the abandoned village, a disgruntled Felawine came stumping along the road, leaning heavily on her knobbly stick.

“Elurín,” She said, her brow creasing in anger. “Whatever are you doing? I expected better of you than to leave the baby unattended – and don’t you have work to do?”

Elurín hefted his bucket to show her the water. “Felach had a fever. I wanted to get him something to cool down.”

Felawine snorted. “He had no such thing. Babies just get warm when it’s summer.”

“But he wasn’t crying and he felt ill. All his emotions were like when Eluréd got attacked.”

“Hmmph. _Elves_. _Feelings_ have nothing to do with it – no one else in the village is ill and so the baby isn’t either.”

Elurín stubbornly continued on regardless as his arms were beginning to ache and he _knew_ he was right, no matter what the old hag said.

“Children these days. They have no respect for their elders. You know, I’ve lived far longer than you have.”

“And Caranthir has lived far longer than _you_ and he says I should only respect those who have earned my respect.”

He could hear Nana telling him to _lift your chin higher and stand up straighter as you are a Prince of Doriath and you should show that to them all_.

“Oh, don’t go all high and mighty on me,” The old woman said, keeping up with him fairly well despite her constant protestations about bad joints or being tired. “You are young but one day you’ll want your youngers to respect you too.”

“And I shall do that by _earning_ their-” He cut off as he heard something. “Fire. Where’s the fire?”

He put down the bucket and looked around, spotting a distortion in the air a bit off the main track.

Around where the weaving hut was.

“Where’s Felach?” He asked sharply.

“Mind your-”

“Where’s. Felach?”

“Back in the hut but I don’t-”

Elurín began to run, water sloshing from his bucket as he went and wishing desperately that he was not right.

He was not in Eru’s favour.

The roof and an entire side of the round healing hut was on fire.

Desperately, Elurín threw his pitiful bucket of water on the nearest wall, but it did nothing.

“What are you doing, you idiot boy?” Felawine called stumping up the lane. “There’s nothing you can do now.”

“So you’re just going to give up like that?” Elurín asked, looking over the burning building for a way in. “What about your daughter and her husband? They’ll be distraught.”

“They have seven other children. They will be fine. I lost plenty of children when I was younger.”

Seeing no other solution (and deciding not to engage the crazy old lady in an argument), he pulled off his cloak and tore off the bottom. He tied it around his mouth and nose and, squinting against the smoke, kicked the door open and ran into the hut.

Felach was crying in his basket, just audible over the crackling of the fire. Flames licked at his clothes and skin but never _quite_ managed to catch.

Elurín scooped him up and held him close to his chest, turning to get out the way he came. He took a step, something cracked and one of the beams that held the thatching in place fell down in front of him.

Elurín let out a small scream, tripping backwards and falling onto the ground.

In his arms, Felach began to cry in earnest, loud bawling screams that were slightly muffled through Elurín’s shirt fabric. Something else collapsed nearby and Elurín rocked forward onto his knees, leaning over them with Felach hidden, to protect him because he was just a baby and he _liked_ Feleth and Léofel, even if their door was always broken and Dunred had to pay outrageous prices for their apples because of some bet from when they were children and he liked Felach, _and he was just a baby_ -

* * *

In hindsight, it was kind of like trying desperately not to breath as your head was forced under water but, when your lungs finally gave up and you gasped in, you found you could breathe the water perfectly well.

Elurín stood back, watching himself curiously, curled up around Felach in a sphere of silver in the midst of the burning house. The flames didn’t hurt as they licked around his feet from where he was watching, it was but a faint tickle, and the roar of the burning house was a soft purr in the background.

Another beam fell down, directly on top of where the sphere was, but it broke on contact, falling either side of Elurín and the baby, leaving them untouched.

He took a step backward and turned from the protection, feeling out and gliding softly to…somewhere where he was being drawn.

He watched Caranthir pulled his hair out of its ribbon and tie it back up in a ponytail. He turned to Dunred beside him but stopped.

“Elurín?” He asked and it sounded as if he was talking from somewhere far off. “What are you doing out here?”

Elurín opened his mouth to say something but no sound came out. Instead, he pointed in the direction of the village.

“Elurín?” Dunred looked around in confusion. “Elurín’s not here.”

Caranthir followed Elurín’s finger and saw the fire.

“Oh no, not again. Not again, not again, not again.” He tugged hard at a loose lock of hair. “There’s a fire in the village,” He said, turning to Dunred, surprisingly calm.

Elurín saw Dunred’s eyes widen and heard him yell “Fire!” to the other workers in the near vicinity before he was pulled back to the hut.

Felawine still stood there, looking at the blaze with hard eyes.

“Idiot boy,” She muttered, hitting the ground with her stick and turning away. “He’s gone and got himself killed.”

She hobbled off, slow and steadily. Elurín watched her disappear just in time for a group of men appearing.

He stepped back into the fiery wreckage of the weaving hut as a chain was formed and water thrown on the hut. The silver sphere around him (his body?) and Felach still stood strong against the flames licking at it hungrily.

He felt an inexplicable pull and glided absently towards his figure as the flames began to die down. He reached out and ever so slightly touched the silver surface.

* * *

He was burning.

Everything hurt in a way he couldn’t even comprehend, his mind coming up blank every time he tried to register the blinding pain.

Felach was crying and it rang in his ears, accentuating everything that hurt tenfold.

Someone called his name but he couldn’t even sit up, let alone answer.

Someone took Felach from him and ever so carefully picked him up.

Someone sent gentle feelings of safety and security down their bond.

Elurín leant into his father’s touch as much as he could, hot tears dripping down his face as he was incapable of stopping them.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so glad you’re safe. I’m so, _so_ sorry,” Caranthir whispered.

“‘t’s OK.” Elurín mumbled. “‘m OK.”

“Yes. Yes you are.” Elurín felt the arms around him curl a bit more protectively before he fell unconscious.

* * *

“You’re an idiot.” Eluréd informed him when he woke up and was certain that he was feeling better.

“Felach’s OK though?”

“Felach _is_ OK.” Eluréd took the Cat’s Cradle from his twin. “Although no-one’s talking to Felawine now. And you’re a hero. Léofel brought over some apples and a brace of hares as a thank you and Feleth has been asking after you every time Atya so much as steps within her radius.”

Elurín snorted a laugh as he worked out how to take the Cat’s Cradle back.

“They already have plans for a new weaving hut. They’re going to build it once the summer fires have finished. And I’ve been put on watch duty by Haldad. If I sniff so much as a candle, I’m to run and inform the nearest person I can.”

“Good.”

There was a knock on the door, disrupting Elurín’s thoughts and messing up the Cradle.

“Hey, can we come in?” Amosgarn asked and pushed the door open when there was an acknowledgement. She came and sat on the edge of the bed as Eluréd shuffled up to sit beside his brother. Caranthir took a seat on the stool that sat on the edge of the room, divesting it of one of Eluréd’s shirts.

“We need to talk,” Amosgarn said. “About what happened during the fire.”

Elurín blinked at her. “What about the fire?”

“Did you notice anything… _abnormal_ about what happened?” Caranthir asked.

Elurín shared a look with his brother. “No.”

“Have you noticed anything odd when you are particularly emotional?”

“No. What’s this about?”

Caranthir leaned back with a sigh.

“Do you remember when we first came here?” Amosgarn asked, taking over from her husband. “And there was the incident with the wolves?”

“Yes,” Eluréd agreed. “I got cut off from you and got attacked by wolves and then Atya saved me.”

Caranthir’s face pinched slightly. “That’s not quite what happened. You weren’t ill because the wolves injured you – quite the contrary.”

“You both are very special. Your great-grandmother Melian was a Maia and passed onto you some of her blood. You are connected to the world in a way that is beyond that of either Elves or Men and subsequently, when you are particularly distressed, the world around you picks up on it.”

Elurín looked up at her with wide eyes. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Caranthir began gently, “That when the wolves attacked, whatever magic in your veins flowed out and you killed those wolves yourself Eluréd.”

Elurín could feel his brother’s shock. “And me?” He asked, in a very small voice, unsure of how he would feel at the answer.

“You found me when the fire began, set up a protection around you and baby Felach. You saved both of your lives.”

“We were going to tell you when you reached your majority, if you had not worked it out by then,” Amosgarn said. “But it had happened again and it felt like a deception to keep knowledge from you that could keep you safe in the future.”

Elurín nodded numbly. Amosgarn smiled, rising from her place on the bed. “I need to get supper made so that Haldad doesn’t poison us. Sleep well.” She kissed them both on the forehead. “Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite!” She called and flitted from the room.

Caranthir stood and gave them both a tired smile. “I should be getting along too. I-”

“Can you stay with us tonight?” Eluréd asked before he could stop himself.

“Please,” Elurín added quietly. He felt like crying even though he didn’t know exactly why.

Caranthir looked momentarily perplexed but then his face shifted into a melancholic smile. “Of course.” He kicked off his boots, lying his over tunic on the stool and settled down between the two boys. Elurín snuggled as close to him as was humanly possible, squeezing his eyes shut and focussing only on the comfort of Caranthir’s arm around him as he fell into an uneasy sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Non-Canon Names:  
> Felawine - Man Friend (Halish)  
> Felach - Man Flame (Halish)  
> Feleth - Man Woman (Halish)  
> Léofel - Cat Man (Halish)
> 
> Quenya Translations:  
> Atya - Father (Informal)
> 
> Silvan Translations:  
> Ami - Mother (Informal)


End file.
